Save You
by Nellie Potter
Summary: "And what gave you the impression that I'd ever want to take a case in the clinic?"..."Because," Cuddy began as she forced the file into House's hand. "I think you'll find this patient to be interesting."..."And what makes you say that?"..."She says she's your daughter."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: My first House fanfiction! I've actually been sitting on this idea for a while (a few years at least) and now that House is finally on Netflix, I can rewatch the episodes and make sure that I get most of the facts right. Not everything will match up with this show since it is AU. Slight OOCness because it's difficult to perfectly capture the personality of House.**

**Takes place just before the pilot episode**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. All rights reserved, no copyright infringement intended, the usually spiel.**

* * *

Another long day. Or maybe it was still yesterday. The days were starting to run together; it was getting difficult to differentiate. But it wasn't as if House cared. The routine was always the same, so what did it matter what day it was?

As he stood at the elevator, House heard a voice behind him, a voice he hoped he wouldn't have to hear at all that day. "Dr. House," Lisa Cuddy said sharply from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, House saw that she was holding a manila folder. No doubt some sap's medical information. "You have clinic duty this morning." Cuddy held out the file to House. "I think you'll want to take this."

House did not take the patient's file from Cuddy. Though the elevator had not shown up yet, there was still a chance to get out of this. "And what gave you the impression that I'd ever want to take a case in the clinic?" It was probably just a child who got a toy stuck up their nose or an adult complaining about sore legs after running two miles.

"Because," Cuddy began as she forced the file into House's hand. "I think you'll find this patient to be interesting."

"And what makes you say that?" House very much doubted that any patient in the clinic was of any interest to him.

House expected Cuddy to walk away without saying anything or even make a snide remark. But Cuddy didn't even crack a smirk. She remained having a completely serious countenance. "She says she's your daughter."

"''"""""'"""""'""'""'

It took a while for the doctor to show up. And when he finally did, the girl felt relieved. Finally, she was seeing him for the first time. He looked… nothing like she had imagined. But what did it matter? "Are you Dr. House?"

House stared at the girl for a few moments. Her chart said she was seventeen, though she looked nineteen. "No," he answered as he stepped further into the room.

There was noticeable disappointment in the girl's tone and eyes. "Oh…"

"You seem disappointed," House said, stating the obvious. He set aside the teen's file and sat in the chair next to the examination table. He seriously considered pulling out his Game Boy. But he could not deny that his interest was piqued. After all, Cuddy said this girl claimed to be his daughter. So instead, he crossed his legs and stared at her with folded arms as he leaned back in the chair.

The teenager turned her body so that she was facing him. She also adjusted her position so that she was sitting Indian style. "I was told that Dr. House was the best doctor here," she explained, as if that clarified everything.

House pursed his lips slightly. So, she told Cuddy she was his daughter but she wasn't going to outright tell him. There was no resemblance between the two of them. She had pale skin and dark brown- perhaps it was black- hair that hung down to the middle of her back. And then he noticed her eyes. They were the same color as his. "There must be something seriously wrong if you want to see the best doctor," he remarked, not letting on that he was the doctor she wished to see. Now that he noticed her eyes, House was studying her more carefully.

"Just a routine checkup."

Just a routine checkup was what she claimed. A closer look at her revealed to house that she _needed_ a checkup for sure. Her skin wasn't just pale. It was sickly pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. House stood up and gently placed his cool hands around her neck, checking for swollen glands. It was all part of the routine checkup, after all.

"When did you move to America?" House began to interrogate.

The question seemed to catch the girl off guard. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. "How do you know I wasn't born here in the States?" the girl countered. Though she had been caught off guard, she still didn't miss a beat.

Greg smirked as he took away his hands. She was quick and that definitely reminded the doctor of himself. "Your accent. It's not strong, but it's still there. Say 'mom.'"

"Mum," was the reply.

"Point proven. Australian?"

"British."

Dismissively, House said, "Same thing."

The girl tried to suppress a faint smirk. "Not really." But what did it matter? As far as she knew, this wasn't Dr. Gregory House and she would not be seeing him ever again. "We, Mum and I, moved here when I was ten." And even though it had been seven years, she had yet to completely use the accent, not that she minded. "From Paddington, originally."

As she- Greg couldn't recall her name- spoke, his mind was reeling, trying to remember his life and what happened seventeen years ago. He actually didn't know much about the world outside of the hospital, but he did know that Paddington was in London. He had never been to London. From this information, he drew the conclusion that this girl's claims were false. She couldn't possibly be his daughter.

"Mum was from here, though. She moved to Paddington from New Jersey. That's why we came back here."

Damn.

House stepped away from the examination table and took the Vicodin pill bottle out of his pocket. He removed the top and dumped the prescribed amount into the palm of his hand before swallowing the pills dry.

The teenager watched this with great interest. A little too much interest in House's opinion. "You _are_ Dr. House."

He raised his eyebrows as he put the pill bottle back into his pocket. "What gave it away?" He tried sounding uninterested, but truthfully he wasn't sure how convincing the act was.

"The cane and the pills. That woman… her name was Dr. Cuddy, I think? When I asked about you, that was how she described you. Well, actually she said 'crippled and addicted.' I can only assume this is what she meant. Oh yeah, and the general attitude of an arsehole."

Now House was no longer trying to hide his disinterest. What was the point? She knew who he was and he- sort of- knew who she was, or at least who she claimed to be. Gregory picked up her file again and read the name. "Dexter Woods… Dexter's a boy's name."

"And House is a noun," the girl named Dexter retorted. "Your point?" Again, House smirked. He still very much doubted that this girl was his daughter. But a small part of him silently admired her wit. Dexter smirked as well and continued when there was no verbal response. "Dexter's a family name. Mum was obviously expecting a boy. Guess she was so set on the name that she didn't bother to change it."

That must have been quite the shock at the delivery, House thought to himself, pretending to read her file more in depth. "No daddy dearest in the picture?"

There was a long pause. Dexter wasn't making eye contact, instead paying attention to the fingers she was twiddling. "About that…" She trailed off and slowly looked up to meet his eyes, the eyes that matched hers. "There's something that I should tell you."

But there was no need for her to tell him anything. He was still in denial. House was always in denial about something. While Dexter didn't ring any bells, the name Woods did. It was a name he hadn't heard for a long time; for at least seventeen years.

"I know. You're my daughter."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful views! I'm pleased with the response I've gotten so far and I hope I can live up to your standards.**

* * *

There was a long, awkward silence between the two. Neither of them was really sure what to say next. Dexter thought she had planned this whole thing out. Truthfully, she hadn't planned further than the point of telling him who she was. And she didn't even get to do that. He had said it for her. He seemed skeptical, though.

Dexter went back to avoiding eye contact. She focused on the hands in her lap. "You probably don't believe me." And why should he? Dexter presented no proof other than spoken word. She probably sounded crazy to him. If he was really her father, though then shouldn't he have the same gut feeling she had that she was telling the truth?

He didn't want to believe her. But did that mean he didn't? After all, wanting and doing were two different things. House honestly wasn't sure what to think. Well, there was always one sure way to prove if this dark haired girl spoke the truth.

"How afraid of needles are you?"

""'''"""""'''""""'''"""""'"""''''"

That was supposed to be the end of it. He was supposed to send in the blood for a DNA test and wait for the results while the girl, Dexter, went home. That wasn't even close to what happened.

House immediately frowned when he saw her now familiar figuring sitting in _his_ chair in _his_ office. House opened the glass door that hid nothing from the prying eyes of the hallway. Not only was she invading his space, but she was also playing with his Yoyo, as if she had no respect for other people's property. That certainly sounded a lot like him.

Dexter looked up from the Yoyo when House walked in. "Never really been good at these things," she commented, making conversation. This was rather awkward for her, so of course Dexter was doing whatever she could to ease the tension. She set aside the Yoyo. "Did you get the test results?"

"Not yet," House deadpanned. "You're in my chair."

"Indeed I am, Sherlock. Any more brilliant deductions you'd like to make?" Dexter quipped with a faint amused smirk.

House walked further into the room, using the cane he held to shut the door. "And you're not going to move anytime soon." House stopped walking when he was standing directly in front of her. "But as your father, you have to obey me when I say: get out of my chair."

It was as if the command didn't register with her. The only words that clicked in Dexter's mind were the ones preceding the order to get out of the chair. "So the test results _did_ come back, then."

"No."

"But you believe that I'm your daughter."

"No. But you think I'm your dad, so I know you'll listen to me."

He had a good point. "Touché," Dexter said as she stood up from the chair.

She expected House to immediately reclaim it. It surprised her when he didn't. The two of them just stood there, standing and staring.

Dexter hardly believed this. She had been looking for her father for what felt like ages. And he had been here at Princeton-Plainsboro the whole time! She had begged her mother to tell her about her father for forever. The only information she had ever received was that he was a doctor, a really good one. Now, after searching, he was standing right in front of her.

"I'm not lying," Dexter insisted, shattering the silence. "Trust me, I'm not. As soon as I saw you walk through the door, I just knew." He couldn't keep denying this, could he? Dexter was sure that deep down, House had to know she was his kid. "I have your eyes."

She did. As much as House didn't want to believe it, she did have his eyes. While she bore no other physical resemblance, that little similarity was enough to convince her of the relation. But was enough to convince him? It usually took a lot to convince House of anything that wasn't an assumption or idea of his own.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"It's Saturday." Dexter was becoming a little more disappointed with each passing moment. This was a big deal for her; she wanted to hug him! Yet he was kind of being an ass in her eyes. The DNA test would prove that she was right and then he would _have_ to believe that he was her father.

House was studying her again. She had a vitamin D deficiency; that was for sure. It looked like she hadn't been outside for months. "Where's this mother you keep bringing up?"

A solemn look came upon Dexter's face. It was so easy to forget what happened when she was out of the house and on her own. But then something would cause her to remember. As soon as he saw the expression, House could easily guess what happened. He had worked at a hospital long enough to recognize the body language of someone who lost a loved one.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet, gentle. It was a tone he didn't use very often. Dark hair, his eyes, and maybe if her skin was more olive tone than sickly pale… "Audra." He remembered now. He was surprised it took him this long to recall. Then again, it had been one night seventeen years ago. "Audra Woods."

"My mother."

Right, her mother. But to House, she had just been the woman he met at a bar late one night. He should have figured that a simple, stupid mistake would come back to haunt him. He just never thought it would come back to haunt him in the form of a seventeen year old girl.

The pair was interrupted by someone walking in. To Dexter, she was a stranger. To House, it was only Cameron. But it wasn't only Cameron. It was Cameron holding important papers. "The DNA test you ordered," she said, handing over the results.

When House took the papers, she glanced to Dexter before leaving. Whatever was going on, she would find out eventually. Right now wasn't the best time to ask questions, though.

As soon as Cameron was gone, House looked over the papers. Dexter waited with bated breath. This was her father, she was sure of it. But… what if he wasn't? How embarrassing would that be! Finally, after staring at the results for what felt like a long while, House looked up, meeting Dexter's gaze.

"Positive."


	3. Chapter 3

He didn't know how to feel. A positive match meant that she was right. They shared DNA; he was her father. She didn't expect this to turn into anything, did she? Because she shouldn't. A DNA test had been requested, the results were a positive match, and that would be it. Dexter would leave and their lives would return to normal, as if this never happened. House couldn't be part of her life.

"Call your guardians, have them pick you up," House instructed as he sat down in his chair finally. The fact that it had now been quite some time since her appointment, and there had been no questioning of her whereabouts told him that she had no family with her at the hospital. And the lack of car keys meant she hadn't driven here herself.

Firmly, Dexter said, "No." House raised his eyebrows and Dexter realized that he was looking for an explanation. She continued,"I don't know about you, but this is kind of a big deal to me. I'm not just going to leave."

That wasn't just it, though. House could tell. She may not be lying, but that wasn't the whole truth. No car keys, no other family with her, and refusing to leave? "You ran away."

Dexter frowned. She had not expected House to be so observant. She had made sure it wasn't so obvious that she had run away from home. It seemed that her attempt had not been good enough. She should have brought car keys to make it seem like she drove herself instead of having taken the bus. "From my aunt."

"No uncle in the picture?"

Dexter shook her head. Not once had she ever had a father figure in her life, contributing to the fact that meeting her real father was so important to her. "You think I'm annoying." There was no question about that. "And I'm starting to get the impression that you really _are _an arse like Dr. Cuddy told me. But you're my dad. The test proves it."

Did he understand how much this meant to her? Apparently not, because he wasn't working with her on this. And because he wasn't working with her, Dexter knew she was just going to have to be a little more forceful. "You, me, dinner tomorrow night. And we're going to talk whether you want to or not."

House's answer came as a surprise to Dexter. First there was silence. Finally, he nodded curtly and said, "Fine."

""'''""""""'"""''"""

House looked at himself in the mirror. He shouldn't care how he looked. This was just a simple dinner. But it was dinner with his daughter. Could it be that he was actually concerned about making an impression? He had already made a first impression. First impressions could be redeemed by second impressions, though. The more he thought about it, the more House realized that he actually cared… not that he would ever admit that out loud.

This was his daughter. He was absent for seventeen years of her life. And while he came off as a douche bag, he wasn't totally heartless. House never had kids before. He dealt with patients that acted like children, but he was more than sure it wasn't the same. And this wasn't just a child. Dexter was seventeen years old. She wasn't a child, but still not an adult.

Checking the clock, House saw that it was the time that he and Dexter had agreed to have dinner. He still wasn't entirely sure what to think of this. He was going out to dinner with his daughter. It would undoubtedly be awkward. But maybe after this dinner, she wouldn't insist on him being in her life.

And that begged the question: did he want to be part of her life? He knew that couldn't. His life was actually pretty fucked up. Well, his personality was, and that was part of his life. So did he want their lives to become so intertwined?

Dexter… he frowned, thinking of the name. It definitely wouldn't have been his first choice to name his daughter. What had Audra been thinking in choosing that name? Well, that didn't matter. His daughter was named Dexter Woods. Far be it from him to change the name of the child he didn't know for the past seventeen years.

There was a knock on the door and when Greg answered it, he was surprised to see that it was Dexter. Her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was holding a bag with Chinese lettering on it; she had brought take out.

"You look nice," Dexter remarked as she stepped into the apartment without permission. House noticed that she had changed her shirt. No longer was she wearing a loose fitting tee-shirt, but a black tank top with paint stains on it. He briefly wondered if that shirt already looked like that when she bought it, or if the paint stains were her own doing. He dismissed the thought, knowing it didn't really matter. House also noticed that she had a backpack slung over her shoulder. "You got my message, right?" she asked, disrupting his train of thought, "The one telling you that I was coming here instead of us going out?"

House shook his head. "No, I… how did you get my number?"

"From Dr. Cuddy," Dexter answered. "She also gave me your address. Seemed pretty eager to once I told her the DNA test was positive. Now, enough chatter and let's eat!" She placed the Chinese food on the coffee table and dropped her backpack onto the couch.

Still, House kept his eyes on the backpack. Judging by the sound of it hitting the couch, there was a lot of stuff in there. What could she have possibly needed to bring to dinner, though? Silently, House moved over to the couch and unzipped the backpack.

"Hey!" Dexter exclaimed in protest, but it did not stop him. As soon as the backpack was unzipped, House was greeted with the sight of clothes and a picture frame.

"You ran away again." He supposed that made sense. Enough clothes for a few outfits and a picture frame for memory's sake. It was the typical contents of a kid on the run.

There wasn't an answer. House didn't expect one because it wasn't a question he asked. And then the teenager spoke. "Actually, I was kicked out." While that actually surprised Greg, he didn't dare show any fazed expression on his countenance. "When I saw you yesterday, that wasn't the first time I had gone looking for my dad; for you. Sheila had enough of-"

"Sheila?" House interrupted.

"Yeah, my aunt."

Dexter held House's gaze and after a beat of silence, the man smirked. He had just caught her in a lie, only further proving his philosophy that everybody was a liar. "No, she's not. If she was your aunt, you most likely would have said Aunt Sheila. But you didn't, which makes her… foster mom? Angsty teen runs away from foster mom to find her real father; starting to sound a little like a stereotypical, corny Hallmark movie."

Dexter sat down on the couch and leaned back against the cushions. "Not really my fault. Sometimes life is like a corny Hallmark movie. And I am not angsty!" she argued before going silent for a few moments. She avoided looking at House, choosing to stare at her hands instead. "It does seem pretty stereotypical, doesn't it?" Like she said though, that wasn't her fault. Sometimes life was stereotypical. "Sheila really is my aunt though, not my foster mom. I stopped referring to her as Aunt Sheila years ago." And if Sheila had been her foster mom, she would have simply been sent back to the group home instead of just being kicked out. "Come on, let's eat."

She reached into the bag and passed Greg a carton of lo mein. "Chopsticks or a fork?"

"You can't stay here."

There was a pause and Dexter raised her eyebrows. "That… wasn't the question."

"It was implied."

"Asking if you want chopsticks or a fork implies me asking to stay here?" Dexter scoffed quietly as she pulled apart a pair of chopsticks for herself. "Even if it did, you don't get a say. I'm moving in."

Now House wasn't sure if he should be amused by her blatant displays of pluckiness or irritated. She was demonstrating a behavior that was similar to his own behavior. That wasn't okay. Only he was allowed to behave like himself. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

"Because I'm your daughter and I have nowhere else to go." Dexter met House's gaze, blue eyes matching blue eyes. She blinked a few times, her eyes wide and almost pleading. House supposed this was her way of making a puppy dog face, though it wasn't as obvious without the pouting lower lip.

Silence. Utter silence as he held his daughter's gaze. He could easily cast her aside and not give her second thought anymore. Life for him would carry on as normal with him in his life; he wouldn't have some teenager messing things up. House's gaze glanced down for a second to her waist and frowned faintly when he noticed that with the tank top, Dexter's figure was more apparent. And it seemed she was almost... unhealthily skinny.

Finally, he sighed quietly, taking a fork. "Fine, but there are rules to living here."

* * *

**A/N: As a heads up, you guys, this story will not contain eating disorders. So if that's a sensitive topic for you, don't worry it won't be happening in this story. More will be explained as the story progresses.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Drama club is over with which means no more rehearsals and more time to write! Thank you all so much for favoriting, following, and reviewing!**

* * *

House stared at the sleeping figure of his daughter on the couch. It was time for him to go into work. But what was strange was that it was way past the time for school to start. Yet, she was still there, sleeping. Without giving his actions a second thought, House nudged Dexter with his cane.

Dexter woke with a start, jerking slightly. "What the hell?" she mumbled, sitting up. House once again noted her slim figure, thinking on it for just a moment. He didn't recall hearing her throwing up the night before, so he ruled out bulimia for now. She scratched the side of her head as she yawned. "What time is it?" she asked through the yawn, her words snapping House out of his own thoughts.

"Time for you to be in school. Why aren't you up and ready?" House studied his slightly groggy daughter, believing there to be a reason for the fact that she was just waking up even though school started over an hour ago. Maybe she had a habit of skipping?

"Yeah, about school. I don't actually go." So she _did_ have a habit of playing hooky. "Sheila homeschooled me."

House raised his eyebrows. That was not exactly the answer he had been expecting. But either way, that meant she wasn't going to school that day, which meant that she would have to come to work with him. While House wasn't exactly pleased with that idea, he saw no other choice since he certainly didn't trust her to stay in the apartment alone.

Sitting up, Dexter stretched her arms. "I think I'm going to call you 'Sherlock' instead of 'Dad,'" she stated. This received no response, which she took as a request to explain. "Well, you're a doctor who solves cases, like Sherlock 'cept he's a detective, not a doctor. Not to mention you live at two-two-one B Baker Street, _just_ like Sherlock." She tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes meeting Greg's. "Unless you want me to call you 'Dad'?"

After a beat of silence passed, House curtly shook his head. "No, I don't." Biologically, yes he was her father. But he could not step up in that role, not when he was still trying to wrap his mind around this little plot twist in the story of his life.

""''""""""'""""""

"Kindergarten teacher has a grand mal seizure in front of her class and isn't responding to radiation," House said as he walked into the room. His diagnostic team looked up to him and their attention was immediately drawn to Dexter who entered the room after him. House frowned and then glanced behind him. "Right, the kid. Team, Dexter. Dexter, team. Now that we're all best friends, we can move on," he said with his classic sarcasm.

He placed the case file on the middle of the table and new hire Foreman was the first one to grab it and look through it before passing it off to Cameron, who was more focused on Dexter than the case. She recognized her as the girl in House's office the other day. But why was she here now?

House went up to his whiteboard and was about to start writing. But when he looked back to his team, he saw that they were all distracted by the presence of his daughter. Oh great. "Dexter, go into the office. Stay there till I come and get you," he said dismissively.

Dexter hesitated a moment. She had expected him to introduce her to the team as his daughter. But it didn't seem that he would be doing it that day. "Yeah, okay." Without another word, she walked through the door into House's office. Once in there, she sat in his chair and started playing with his Yoyo again.

Greg turned back to his team and rolled his eyes when he saw that their eyes were still fixated on the seventeen year old girl. Wilson had reminded him that these were the best three doctors to have on a team, yet they were letting themselves get so easily distracted. House opened the door that led into his office. "Do you remember where Cuddy's office is?" he asked. Dexter nodded a few times. "Good, go annoy her for a few hours."

"""''""""""'"""''""

Lisa Cuddy looked up from her work when she heard a knock on her office door. "Come in," she said absentmindedly, adjusting her reading glasses as she looked back down to her work. Obviously it wasn't House that was coming to see her. He never bothered to knock.

The door opened and in stepped that girl who had been in the clinic on Saturday, claiming to be House's daughter. Cuddy raised her eyebrows and took off her reading glasses. "Oh, hi. Can I help you with something?"

Dexter smiled warmly. "Mind if I hang out here for a few hours? My dad kicked me out of his office." It was a little strange to for her to say "my dad" and knowing the person she was referring to; strange but rather wonderful. But upon his request, Dexter would not be calling him "Dad," to his face, which she supposed she was okay with.

"So House really is your father?" Cuddy asked, not really answering the girl's question. It seemed that didn't matter though, for the teen took the liberty of plopping down on the couch without much invitation.

"Yup."

Cuddy was a little shocked to find that she was glad that the DNA test was a positive match. It was heartwarming, knowing that family was united. But at the same time, she had to pity the girl for having a father who was House. She did not comment on that though, not wanting to seem too rude. Besides, she had told Dexter before what House's personality was like, so she should have known what to expect for the most part.

This girl and House had eyes that were the same shade of blue. That was what Cuddy had noticed when she first met Dexter two days before. Now she was getting a better look at her: dark hair that was a stark contrast with her pale skin… sickly pale skin. Cuddy frowned at this. And the girl's figure was not one of a healthy seventeen year old. Yet this girl acted as if she was fine. That left Cuddy with two theories, one that could be cured with medicine and the other with rehab. The dean of medicine sincerely hoped it was the former.

"Can you stand up for a moment?" Cuddy requested, getting out of her chair and moving from behind her desk.

Dexter did not question the odd request and just obeyed, though it had her head swimming with questions. Within the next second, Lisa's gentle hands were on her neck, as if she was getting another check up. "Is everything alright?" she asked when Cuddy pulled her hands away.

Her thyroid gland was swollen was what Cuddy had discovered. How had House missed that when Dexter first came to the clinic? The swollen thyroid confirmed Cuddy's suspicions: hyperthyroidism. It could be easily cured if caught early enough. But had it? Left untreated, it could cause serious problems. But Lisa did not let the worry show on her face. "Everything's fine," she lied, not wanting to scare the teenager. "I just need to page your dad."


	5. Chapter 5

Dexter frowned as chilled hands made contact with her neck once again. "I don't get it. Explain this to me again, Sherlock," she began, her eyes meeting House's. "Didn't we just go through this whole checkup routine a couple days ago?"

The answer didn't come immediately. The last time House had checked her thyroid gland, he had been unfocused. Obviously being unfocused had caused him to miss something. He pursed his lips slightly in thought as he discovered what he had missed before. "Your thyroid is swollen," House explained as he pulled his hands away and took hold of his cane again. "Hyperthyroidism; it's what's causing the weight loss."

"Swollen thyroid?" Dexter raised her eyebrows. "That sounds serious."

House usually dismissed worried tones of voice. Nearly all patients got concerned over the smallest of things that were normally not a big deal. But this patient was different. She was Dexter; this patient was his daughter. However, comfort had never really been House's forte. So, he just questioned her. "When was your last period?"

Immediately, Dexter's cheeks flushed. That was a rather personal question and even if this was her father, they had only known each other a few days. She didn't exactly feel comfortable answering that. House sighed heavily. "Not the most comfortable question, I know. I _need_ you to answer, though."

The teen chewed her lower lip nervously for a few more seconds before finally replying, "A month and a half ago. It's been irregular for about half a year now." And that had seemed normal to her. A lot of girls had irregular cycles, right?

Weight loss despite seemingly normal eating habits, a change in her menstrual cycle; these symptoms were starting to add up to hyperthyroidism. The question was: what was causing the hyperthyroidism? "How did you sleep last night?" While it sounded conversational, it was a legitimate question that he was asking as her doctor.

"Pretty good, for sleeping on that shitty couch. It took me awhile, but I'd say I fell asleep around three. That's normal for me." That was normal for most teens. Staying up all night and sleeping in all day was what every high school kid did, except she wasn't like every high school kid with homework keeping her awake because she had been homeschooled instead.

Her constant excuse of all of these symptoms being supposedly normal for her was not helping the matter. House retrieved a syringe and held it up, showing it off to her. "I'm going to take some blood to be tested," he explained and then reached to grab her hand.

Dexter quickly pulled her hand out of his reach. "No," she said quickly, frowning. "I don't want you to."

House was quite surprised by her reaction. "You were fine with having your blood drawn the other day," he pointed out, narrowing his eyes slightly in suspicion.

"Yeah, well I don't want you sticking me with a needle today. Is that a problem?" Dexter snapped, obviously irritated. She folded her arms across her chest. Her gaze seemed to be daring House to attempt to draw her blood. Let him try! He would not be successful.

"Considering I'm trying to diagnose you, yes it is. Now come on, you can be an angsty teenager later."

House made a grab for her hand again and this time, Dexter reached forward and knocked the syringe out of his hand. "I said no!"

The syringe fell to the ground. House looked at the syringe that now rested on the floor before slowly looking back to his daughter. He frowned, brow furrowing. Sudden irritability? There was definitely something wrong.

"''""""""'""""'"""

"Let me get this straight: I have to stay in the hospital because I'm PMSing?"

"I would say yes, except it's not PMS," House replied. He was sitting in the chair that rested beside the hospital bed that Dexter was laying in. He kept his head bowed, gaze focused on the floor. He could see why she would think it was just PMS since it had been a month and a half since she had her last period. But his gut instinct was telling him it was more than that. It was a symptom of something else.

Dexter fiddled with the edge of the hospital blanket that covered her before settling on picking at her cuticles. "It's lupus," she said quietly.

Greg leaned back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. "And what makes you say that it's lupus?" The fact that she had suggested that out of nowhere told House that she didn't know what lupus was exactly.

The teenager shrugged. "There's no medical reason I think why. But I know how it is with doctors. There's always one that suggests lupus only to have it ruled out later. I figured I would be the one to say it now and just get it out of the way."

House smirked, and then there was utter silence between the two for the longest time. The peace was interrupted by Chase walking into the hospital room. "It's not like you to take two patients on at once," he remarked to House. "Shouldn't we be more focused on the dying kindergarten teacher instead?" Chase recognized the teenager from seeing her when House came into work that morning. And now she was a patient?

Dexter focused on Chase, immediately not liking him because of that comment. Of course, a dying teacher was an important patient. But if her father was right and there was actually something wrong with her, she could very well be dying too. Shouldn't all patients be equally important?

Ignoring Chase's words, House stood up from the chair. "Chase, this is Dexter. Dexter, this is Dr. Chase." For a moment, House's voice lost its usual sarcastic tone. His daughter was sick; that thought had just struck him hard. His _daughter _was sick. Then again, if he acted normal, then maybe she would not be worried. He didn't want her to be worried, oddly enough. "He's British, like you."

"I'm Australian," Chase corrected, looking a little offended, which House brushed off.

"Same thing."

Simultaneously, both Dexter and Chase said, "Not really." Though both kept their eyes on Greg, he was focused only on Dexter, who gave him a weak smile and he winked in response. He knew that there was a difference; he had simply repeated what he had said to her two days before perhaps to just get that weak smile. She didn't know the real reason why, but she liked to think that was the reason and she definitely appreciated it.

Chase looked between the two, frowning in confusion. "House, a word in private." He left the room without waiting for a response. As expected, House followed, shutting the hospital room door behind him so that Dexter wouldn't hear them. "Who is she exactly?" Chase asked when the door was shut.

There was a pause as House glanced to Dexter through the glass of the door.

"My daughter."


	6. Chapter 6

There was utter silence in House's outer office. Both Foreman and Cameron were staring at Chase in complete disbelief. He couldn't be serious; House could not have a kid. To be perfectly honest, Foreman had not thought that House was capable of fathering a child. House didn't exactly come off as that type of person. There had never been any mention of a wife or a girlfriend so surely it was understandable that this news had come as quite a shock.

"You're lying," Allison accused.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" Chase retorted. "I'm not lying; House told me himself."

"Then he's trying to screw with us."

Foreman rolled his eyes, already irritated by the back-and-forth going on between the two colleagues. "Can we focus on something a little more important? Like, oh I don't know… the patient?" Yes, he was intrigued by this little prank that House was trying to pull. But they were wasting their time and becoming distracted from diagnosing their patient.

While Chase agreed that they needed to keep their attention on the teacher that was dying from a mystery illness, he did not drop the subject. There was another detail worth mentioning. "Whether she's actually his daughter or if this is some pointless trick, she's our patient now too." He dropped Dexter's medical file onto the table.

"'''''""""""'"''''''""'

"You're lying."

That seemed to be the popular accusation of the day, House thought to himself. "Nope, not lying. Seems a little pointless to lie about something like this."

House did make a good point and that made Wilson frown. So he was actually telling the truth and he really did have a daughter. Not once, in a million years, did Wilson ever imagine House with a kid. "And she's here in the hospital?"

The two of them sat down in the cafeteria, Wilson with a tray of food and House with nothing.

A curt nod in response came from House. Then, a few moments of silence followed. Wilson wasn't sure what else to say. Should he give his condolences? House didn't seem to be all that worried, which meant he most likely knew what was wrong with his daughter already. "And… who's the mother?" Wilson asked hesitantly, not sure how sensitive the topic was.

"…Audra Woods."

Wilson's eyebrows raised in surprise. "The med student from twenty years ago?"

"Seventeen years," House corrected. Seventeen years… had it really been that long ago? It had to have been; that was how old Dexter was. He hardly remembered that night. He had hardly remembered Audra's face until he had seen Dexter. But the events of Dexter's conception were still fuzzy and almost completely forgotten.

While things now made sense, it was still quite shocking. Wilson was, as everyone knew, House's best and probably only friend. Yet this was a major detail that he had not known about until now. The only consolation was that House had not known about his daughter either. So at least he hadn't been keeping secrets.

House then stole Wilson's bag of chips. That did not surprise the oncologist. What did surprise him was that House didn't open the bag to eat the chips. Instead, he stood up from the table he was sitting at. With a curious look, James watched as House exited the cafeteria before getting up as well to follow.

"''"""""''""'"""""'

Dexter looked up from her lap to see her father enter her hospital room and she tilted her head in confusion when she saw the bag of potato chips. "Did the cafeteria not have any chips?"

House looked down at the bag of Salt & Vinegar chips he had brought with him and then held them up for Dexter to see. She did know what chips were, right? Seeing the befuddled glint in House's blue eyes, Dexter realized why there was a bit of miscommunication. "Sorry, I meant French fries. So used to calling them chips and calling potato chips crisps that I just assumed…"

"So you don't want the chips?"

"Well I never said that."

So House tossed Dexter the bag of potato chips and she grinned, opening them. As she crunched on one, enjoying salty-tanginess, Wilson, having followed his friend, walked into the room. "Is this her?" he asked.

A smirk came upon Dexter's fair skinned face as she swallowed the mouthful of potato chips. "Let me guess: John Watson." She had forever labeled House as Sherlock and every Sherlock Holmes needed a Dr. John Watson.

"Uh, no, James Wilson," said the oncologist, not getting the joke. He took a moment to just study Dexter. She must have taken after her mother for she looked nothing like her father. Except for the eyes, he noted. They had the same shade of blue eyes. It was quite the curious sight to behold.

Dexter crunched on another chip, not surprised that he thought she had been serious about thinking his name was John Watson. "Close enough." She looked from Wilson to House and then back to Wilson. "I'm guessing you two are friends?"

House and Wilson shared a glance, both knowing that friend was a loosely used term when describing them. Their relationship was complicated. They just said they were friends to make it easier when they told people how they knew each other. "I'll take that as a yes," Dexter continued when she didn't receive a response. "So, do you know what's wrong with me yet?"

There was silence at first. And it was that silence that made the smile fade from Dexter's face. She stopped eating the Salt & Vinegar potato chips, setting aside the bag. Her lips tingled, but she was too mentally numb to actually feel it.

"Tests aren't back yet," said House, sounding nonchalant.

This confirmed Wilson's thoughts about him already knowing what was wrong with Dexter. However, Dexter didn't know what was wrong with her and she was quite concerned with what might be causing her to stay in the hospital. "House," she said firmly, becoming serious for Greg's idle tone of voice had not been reassuring. "What is wrong with me?" She knew that he knew. That was what made him the best diagnostician: he knew what was wrong even before test results. "Is it serious?"

House said, "You have Graves' Disease."

Dexter raised her eyebrows, utterly shocked at how calm and collected House was acting about this. She had _what_-disease? "I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty serious to me." And deadly; _Graves'_ Disease sounded incredibly deadly to her!

"Oh will you just relax?" House had quickly become irritated. It didn't matter who he was talking to; ignorance was annoying. "We'll start you on propylthiouracil and methimazole and you'll be fine."

A wave of relief washed over Dexter. She was not dying! Her smile returned, seemingly brighter than ever.

"Thanks, Dad."


	7. Chapter 7

Dexter slowly woke up, the sun shining in her eyes. She squinted and sat up in order to escape the brightness that burned her eyes. She groaned, running a hand through her hair. It took her a moment to remember exactly where she was.

Oh right, the hospital. She had stayed overnight for observation, in case she had a nasty reaction to the medication that was given to her. And she had not seen House since she had called him the D word. But now he would have to see her, because he would be taking her back to the apartment once he got off work.

But that was hours away. So for now, she was stuck in the hospital bed. As it turned out, she wouldn't be lonely despite the lack of company from House.

An hour after she had woken up, Dexter beginning to get antsy and she felt that she needed to get up and walk around; it was as if she had an itch she couldn't scratch. Well, there was one way to scratch the itch and it was to actually get up.

She couldn't do that though, could she? Just get up and walk out of the room? It wasn't as if she wouldn't be coming back. And the lack of doctors surrounding her gave her an excuse to just get up without telling anyone.

Just as Dexter was about to get out of the hospital bed, Wilson walked into the room. With raised eyebrows and a surprised expression, Dexter settled back into the bed. "Hey, it's Watson," she greeted.

"Wilson," the oncologist corrected.

Dexter smirked. Despite another correction, she had a feeling that James had caught onto the joke. "Fine, Uncle Jimmy it is. So any particular reason you stopped by?" Dexter had a feeling she already knew, though. Wilson didn't know her that well, so he wouldn't be randomly stopping by to check up on her for no reason.

The both of them shared a look in silence and that was all Dexter needed to confirm that her suspicions were true. Wilson, now being referred to as Uncle Jimmy by her, was checking up on her to tell House how she was doing. "House said that he'll bring you back to the apartment when he gets off of work."

So House didn't want to come and see her for himself. Dexter supposed she understood why. It was because she had called him the D word, she knew that was it. So it seemed she would be stuck at the hospital until five o'clock that evening.

Just great.

''''""""''""""""

She was glad to be out of the hospital; that much she could say. But she could not say that she was glad to be home. This place was not home, no matter how much she wanted it to be. Dexter had only slept over once and didn't exactly feel welcomed despite being told that she could stay. Things were rather awkward between her and House and while that was understandable, that did not mean Dexter was okay with that.

Dexter sat at the piano, unable to sleep. She didn't dare play, not wanting to wake House. Besides, her mind was too preoccupied to play, not that she could really play to begin with. She was too focused on the fact that she had called House, "Dad." It had been too soon, that was for damn sure. But it had just slipped from her mouth so easily, and it had felt so natural. Her timing had just been so off, though.

Meanwhile, lying in bed was House staring up at the ceiling. He was unable to sleep, too distracted from all that's happened. His arms were folded behind his head and his brow was furrowed. Truthfully, the diagnostician didn't know how to feel. This was all very new to him.

And he still didn't know what exactly happened to Audra. She was dead, that was all Dexter had let on. But what had happened? House usually didn't care about what happened to other people. This was different, though. Audra was Dexter's mother; his _daughter's_ mother.

He had not talked to her on the drive from the hospital back to the apartment. He hadn't known what to say. Things had been going fine and then she had called him the D word. It definitely had been too soon. There were plenty of fathers who would attest that hearing their child call them "Dad" for the first time was wonderful. But for House, it had been far from it. It was establishing something he wasn't ready for. Despite it being proven that Dexter was his biological daughter, he never truly felt the responsibility until now. Now, it was suddenly all very real.

Finding that he was unable to remain comfortable just lying in his bed, House sat up before grabbing his cane and limping out of his room.

And there was Dexter sitting at the piano. The girl looked up at House with the same expression of a deer caught in the headlights. Her jaw dropped a little as she was obviously looking for the words to say. House stood there with a faintly amused expression as she struggled for a moment before finally just settling on a pathetic, "Hi."

Without replying, Greg traversed across the living room of the apartment and settled down on the piano bench beside Dexter. There was silence and he stared at the black and white keys. "Hi," he said after a while. He did not look at her though. House just continued to stare at the keys of the piano. He did not ask if Dexter played. He figured if she did play, she would be playing.

He let go of his cane, having it rest against the side of piano. He placed his fingers on a few keys and began playing a song that he had learned a long while ago. The tune immediately struck Dexter as familiar. Her blue eyes widened in surprise. It was a sweet lullaby that she would never forget. "'Cape Breton Lullaby,'" she said softly, remembering fondly and watching House's fingers move across the keys. "Mum used to always sing it to me."

That had been the song that chased away her nightmares as a young child. That had been the song that consoled so many tantrums and tears of sadness. That had been the song that always made her smile.

"She played it for me the night we met." House had spoken so suddenly that Dexter, at first, thought she had imagined the words coming from his mouth.

Dexter raised her eyebrows. "I never knew Mum played." They never had a piano in the house while she was growing up. They didn't have any instruments for no one in the family had ever played. Melodiously, Dexter began humming as House continued to play and then let the words cascade from her mouth.

"_Drift wood is burning blue, wild walks the wall shadows, night winds go riding by, riding by the lochie meadows_." Dexter wasn't perhaps the best singer in the world. And she was well aware of that. In her opinion, her mother had been the most wonderful singer and she did her best to mimic Audra's sound. "_On the ring of day flows Mira's stream, singing: __Caidil gu la laddie, la, laddie, sleep the stars away_."

House tore his gaze away from the piano keys for a few moments to glance at Dexter, who was too distracted from the music to notice him looking at her. Without realizing it, the faintest of smiles appeared on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm terribly sorry for how short this chapter is. But really, it was the perfect way to end it.**

**And speaking of endings, this will be the last chapter for a while. No, this story is not complete yet. But I have fallen behind on my writing so this story will be on hiatus until I type up the next few chapters. School will be over in a few days so I shall have plenty of time to work on this. **

* * *

"Do you ever actually do work?" Dexter asked. She was currently sitting on the arm of one of the chairs in the OB/GYN lounge. She had come to work with House, deciding that she didn't want to hang around the apartment all day doing nothing. But it seemed that even when she had come to the hospital, she was still hanging around doing nothing, just in a different setting.

House handed Dexter a cup of coffee before sitting down in the same chair that Dexter was sitting on the arm of. She took it without thanks, knowing by now that it was not needed, and sipped it. She crinkled her nose in distaste and looked down into the Styrofoam cup. "You suck at making coffee," she remarked.

Just then, the two were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Dr. Cuddy in the doorway. The woman cleared her throat and both daughter and father looked to her. Dexter cracked a grin and slightly raised the cup of crappy coffee. "Wotcher Dr. Cuddy." Her smile faded when she saw that her cheery expression was not returned by the Dean of Medicine. "Is there something wrong?"

Cuddy did not give a straightforward answer to Dexter's question. "Dexter, I need you to come with me to my office." She felt like a principal talking to a student. But this situation was a little more serious than just a student getting in trouble with a principal.

Dexter looked to House, brow furrowed with slight worry. Greg did not know what was going on, though and could be of no help. He simply frowned in confusion. With slight hesitance, Dexter stood up from the arm of the chair, handing House the cup of coffee he had made her.

In silence, Dexter followed Cuddy to her office. She froze in her tracks in the doorway though when she saw who else was in Cuddy's office. Dexter had never seen the man before in her life. But just because she never met him didn't mean she couldn't a little fearful.

The police officer stood tall with broad shoulders. Dexter did not wish to approach any further. What in the hell had happened that involved her and the police? "What in the hell is going on?" Dexter asked, looking from the police officer to Cuddy.

"Dexter Woods?" the police officer addressed her. Dexter read the silver tag pinned to his uniform that read RHODES. "I'm here to escort you back home."

Now that just raised further questions. "Home? I don't under…" But Dexter stopped when the realization dawned on her. Home was what Officer Rhodes said. And she knew that House's apartment was not home. He had to mean that he was bringing her back to her Aunt Sheila's. "But I'm staying with my dad!" she protested.

"And he doesn't have legal custody over you," Cuddy interjected. She honestly hated doing this. House annoyed her to no end. But Dexter had done nothing to get on her nerves. "I'm sorry, Dexter," she said sincerely.

However, the sincerity did not ease the blow of this sudden turn of events. And it did not please Dexter at all. Her blue eyes narrowed on Cuddy, hands clenching into fists. How could she believe that Cuddy was sorry? This could have been prevented if Lisa had the guts to lie, then this police officer wouldn't be here to take her back to her aunt's house. "Guess I should go say goodbye," the teenager muttered, turning to leave.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw that there was no need to go back to the OB/GYN lounge because House was standing in the doorway while wearing a stony expression. He seemed to be avoiding eye contact and was acting rather calm, which struck Dexter as odd. Shouldn't he be getting upset because she was being taken away? Or did he really care so little for her? No, no that wasn't it, Dexter realized. He wasn't acting upset because he had already known.

This only angered Dexter further and the hurt was glistening in her eyes. "Screw you," was all she said to House and then pushed past him as she walked out of Cuddy's office. Officer Rhodes followed her and when he caught up to her, he took the lead and brought her to his police car.

"Is there anything you need to get?" Rhodes asked as Dexter opened the passenger door.

Yes, actually there were some things she needed to retrieve from the apartment. The clothes she had brought with her when she had shown up at his doorstep, along with the picture frame that held a photo of her and her mother, Audra. But instead of saying anything, Dexter just shook her head and got in the car, slamming the door shut.


End file.
